


Sweet is the Sound

by iam93percentstardust



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, M/M, Music, Pre-Slash, Tropes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-24 23:55:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17110538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iam93percentstardust/pseuds/iam93percentstardust
Summary: In Beorn's house, Bilbo steals a moment away from the rest of the Company. Thorin joins him with an ulterior motive in mind.





	Sweet is the Sound

**Author's Note:**

  * For [phisleur](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=phisleur).



When Bilbo had first run out the door, chasing after Thorin and his Company, he had never expected that there would be times on this journey where he felt safe. In fact, he had felt a distinct fear that he could be attacked at any moment, a fear that had only worsened when Kíli and Fíli had teased him about the possibility of orcs in the night.

But then they had come to Rivendell and, though it was very different than his cozy hobbit hole, he felt very safe in the valley. Very safe indeed.

So safe that he had considered staying behind when the rest of the Company continued on their way. After all, he had been near useless on the quest so far, a fact that Thorin hadn’t hesitated to remind him about at every possible moment. And then there was that whole nasty business with the trolls where he had been worse than useless. He had been a liability.

Bilbo had given his word, however, and, though he had nearly run away in the mountains, he had stayed. He had stayed through the trek in the goblin caves and through Thorin’s belittlement and through the attack of the Pale Orc. He had stayed through the run across the countryside in a desperate attempt to reach shelter and through the realization that their host was a great man who could turn into a bear.

Now, he was huddled by the fire in Beorn’s home listening as Bofur led the Company in another one of the dwarven drinking songs (and how many of those did they have anyway?). They’d been into Beorn’s homebrewed honey mead and Bilbo suspected, judging by their listless movements and aimless hand-waving, that they were far drunker than they claimed to be. He himself had foregone the drink, choosing instead to warm himself with the fire. But he couldn’t begrudge them their carefree revelries. There’d been far too little of that on their long journey, far too much fear and worry. They were owed this sort of night.

So wrapped in his musings was he that he scarcely noticed when Thorin sat down beside him though he certainly jumped when Thorin spoke.

“Do you sing, Master Hobbit?”

“Do I- do I sing?” Bilbo repeated, surprised that Thorin had chosen to join him instead of his kinsmen.

“Yes, sing,” Thorin said amusedly. “Like talking but you move your voice up and down.”

Bilbo cast him a fondly exasperated look. Humor from the dwarven king! He could hardly believe it. This was not the surly, judgmental dwarf he’d met in Bag End. Ever since the Carrock, Thorin had warmed considerably to him, revealing a more sensitive side and a sly sense of humor. While this was excellent for their interpersonal relationship, it was absolutely terrible for Bilbo’s heart. Poor Bilbo who had been struck with an unwilling attraction to the dwarf from the moment he’d opened the door to him. An attraction that hadn’t lessened even after Thorin had opened his mouth and had only grown after hearing of the way he had saved his people at Moria.

An attraction that Thorin could never know about. Oh he doubted that Thorin would mock him for it but he did suspect pity and that was even worse. A dwarf king would never fall for a lowly hobbit, however much that hobbit might have helped on the quest to reclaim his fallen kingdom.

He had taken too long to answer and now Thorin was looking vaguely disappointed as he began to rise. Bilbo reached out hastily to lay a hand on his arm. “I know what singing is, thank you,” he retorted.

Thorin flashed him a relieved grin as he sat back down. Bilbo’s heart skipped a beat. “Then do you?” Thorin asked again.

Bilbo snorted. “Not in the slightest. I think the kindest thing that has even been said about my voice is that I sound like a dying cat.”

“So does Bofur but that doesn’t stop him.”

For a moment, both Bilbo and Thorin studied Bofur singing loudly atop a table about the assets of a female dwarf. He did indeed resemble the death throes of a cat. In another corner, Gandalf and Beorn were wincing every time Bofur’s voice soared. The rest of the Company, however, seemed unbothered by the caterwauling and were indeed joining in whenever the song required it.

Turning back to Thorin, Bilbo said, “He does now but I heard you all in Bag End. He’s got a lovely voice when he puts his mind to it. Mine sounds like this all the time.”

“How would you know that if the only one who ever hears you sing is you?” Thorin asked, voice suddenly low and intense. His hand dropped to hold Bilbo’s, gently caressing it with his thumb.

Bilbo faced him, mouth slightly parted. It was becoming difficult to breathe. He didn’t want to believe what Thorin was asking of him. It seemed too intimate for the friendship he had been offered. “Are you-?”

“Sing for me, Master Hobbit.”

Bilbo drew in a gasp. He wanted to sing for Thorin, even though he knew his voice was far from lovely. He cast for an excuse, deciding to make a request of Thorin, one that he’d wanted since the Carrock. “Only if you call me by my name.”

Thorin drew back slightly. Bilbo missed his warmth though he hadn’t realized that Thorin had leaned closer to him. “I didn’t want to presume,” he said quietly, looking down at their clasped hands.

“Since when have you cared about propriety?” Bilbo asked. He didn’t know why it was so important to him that he hear his name fall from Thorin’s lips but it was. He wanted it desperately.

Thorin glanced back up at him, looking fearful. Bilbo couldn’t imagine why such a great dwarf would be afraid of him but he couldn’t deny the terror in his eyes.

“Thorin? Are you alright?” he asked curiously.

There was a moment’s silence and then Thorin opened his mouth to reply. Before he could though, Kíli bounded over to them, movement as loose as only a drunk person’s could be.

“Bilbo,” he said, holding out his hand. “Dance with me. I want a partner and Fíli won’t.”

Bilbo chuckled at the pout on Kíli’s face. Still though he looked at Thorin, not wanting to leave his side. Thorin appeared to be slightly irritated by the interruption though he quickly masked it with amusement. “You don’t sing, Master Hobbit,” he said. “Do you dance instead?”

“I do,” Bilbo replied. “When the situation calls for it.”

Thorin gestured broadly at Kíli, bouncing on his heels beside them. “I believe the situation is calling for it.”

For another moment, Bilbo hesitated, not sure if he wanted to break the moment. Kíli, however, had no such qualms and he dragged Bilbo to his feet, pulling him away to the laughing circle of dwarves.

As they went, he called out to Thorin, “My name is Bilbo. Do use it.” Then he was whisked into the dance, the cheers becoming louder as Kíli whirled him around.

By the fire, Thorin ducked his head to hide his fond smile. “Very well. Bilbo.”


End file.
